Lego House
by Pixel Whipped
Summary: Clint finally retains Natasha, but something goes horribly wrong. Now the two are looking at something that they didn't think could happen. Comic heavy.
1. Chapter 1

There was something inherently wrong about the situation he found himself in this time. Clint wasn't a _problem child_, per se, but somehow he ended up in the principal's office on a semi-regular basis. His hands were trembling, head bowed low, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders. His entire body was trembling by the time Coulson walked into the interrogation room and sat across from his young protegee. "Barton. Do you understand the repercussions regarding what's going to happen today?"

"Don't hurt them." His voice was low, the whisper almost inaudible. "Please. I can't ask for diplomatic immunity, I can't ask for protection from whatever SHIELD intends to do to us. But what I can ask is that no matter what - even if it means I have to leave my position, please don't hurt _them_. Don't hurt _her_."

"Barton, you're 37. You've had more than enough time to consider the possibilities and problems that come with your job. You were sent to kill her, what went wrong?" Coulson didn't bother looking at the folder in front of him now. His focus was on the man before him, now fearing for the life of so many. "You brought her here and begged us not to harm her; yet here you are acting like you didn't even _know. _Did she tell you?"

"She told me on the plane ride here. She told me that she would be twenty-one this winter, and that we could face the problem together. Honestly, as soon as she told me, I knew I had to come back. I _knew _I couldn't keep her in Russia. There were too many people who wanted her dead...too many variables. I was selfish. I _am _selfish." If it were possible, his head dropped even lower now. Coulson could see the worry that was evident on the man's mind. "I don't care what you have to do to me...please just understand that I didn't know that it was going to be like this. I just wanted safety for them."

"She'll be visiting with a doctor today, and once we've drawn blood, we'll be deciding what to do. Barton, we can't have the child of an agent and a Russian KGB assassin alive, you should know that by now."

Now he tensed. His entire body stopped moving, his breathing was deep and methodical. If he wasn't cuffed to the table, he would have probably jumped his boss. "I am literally _begging you _with everything I have in my body not to terminate. Please. _Please_ Coulson. This is my _family_. You have to know how important that child is to me!"

"About as important as it would be to the KGB if they found out about it, I suppose. But we can't offer you protection from the foreign government, Barton. They act on their own rules, and if they send an assassin, then what? You fight back? Because in her condition - she certainly can't. Do you plan on retiring once the baby is born? Your contract with us doesn't end for another five years. What was your _plan_, Clint?"

"I didn't _have _a plan! I didn't-you spend so much damn time locked up in a room with someone, learning the intricacies of their life. You learn their little quirks, their ticks, their nervous habits, sleeping patterns, things that scare them...eventually there's nothing left to learn-because you know everything about each other. You know the intimacies of their very being and what makes them who they are at their very core. I hazard to say what's coming next, especially knowing we're on the record...but I fell in love with Natalia Romanova, the Russian spy, the very woman I was sent to kill." His eyes pressed closed, but his posture didn't change. Clint was very much on guard. "She was just exploring the world - getting out there to see things. I wanted her to know that she wasn't the villain of her life story. She could be a hero, she didn't have to be the killer they conditioned her to be. I gave her a _reason_ to change, Coulson. It wasn't intentional, it just..._happened_. But I don't love that child any less because of the circumstances. I don't. I couldn't. It isn't his fault that he exists. He didn't _ask _to be born."

"But here you are bartering for us to keep him alive...even though you know very well what's going to happen from here. She's cooperating with us, that's one small blessing. But you know that they can't salvage the pregnancy." Coulson handed the file over to Clint, shaking his head. "Open it."

"I-I can't. Not if you're going to kill him."

Coulson pushed it a bit closer. "Open the file, Clint. Face your mistake. Understand what's going to happen here."

He pulled the file over to his person, hesitantly opening it up. The first file was about her. All of her information - what she'd willingly give, what they discovered, and what came up in her blood work. The next few files following that were the results of her lab work, followed by the letter from their SHIELD appointed doctor explaining that the results were positive. He knew what was coming next when he felt the glossy sheen on the next page. The letter preceding it explained that they _guessed _she was only roughly twenty weeks along, but nobody spoke Russian so they couldn't actually tell what she'd said. The image following it was the ultrasound image. He was shaking again.

"Do you understand now, Barton?"

"Loud and clear..." His voice was broken, defeated. He took the image into his fingers and studied it; memorized it. It would likely be the only time he ever got to sleep knowing that for a few brief moments in time, his child was alive and it wasn't his fault that he died. The image itself was blurry, he could barely make out what was on it. Was it his crying or the image? There were red rings around the items to draw his attention. Sure enough, two circular rings were adorned on the grayscale image, and he knew exactly what that meant. "Twins..."

"A boy and a girl," Coulson replied, leaning back in his chair. "I'd congratulate you, but we have much to discuss at the moment. I know you didn't have much of a father figure, but I don't want to be the one to give you the _when a man loves a woman_ speech. You knew how this happened, Clint." Leaning forward, Coulson folded his arms, watching the younger man's reaction. "But, I'm not here to negotiate lives with you. I'm here to offer a deal."

Hand frozen in place, he finally tore his eyes away from the picture, looking to his boss. "Deal?"

"We can't negotiate with her; she doesn't speak English, that or she's very good at pretending she's dumb. Talk to her, Barton. We've done an amniocentesis on the fetus, the girl is already exhibiting strange markers for mutated genes. That's the kind of thing we don't want in your enemy's hands. So, if you can convince her to defect from Russia's command and join our team - if you can convince her to play nice with us...we'll let the babies live."

"Let me talk to her..." He put the picture down, looking to Coulson now. There was a fire and determination in his eyes that the man had only ever witnessed a few other times. "I can do it, I promise. Let me talk to her."

"She'll be on a very short leash until she proves her allegiance, Barton."

He looked away now, knowing that she'd have regular check ups and check ins to make sure she wasn't planning anything; his word alone wasn't enough. "I understand that. But I also know that, as someone with no family - who was told she was sterile - Natalia isn't going to do anything to jeopardize her baby. Even if it means losing who she is."

Coulson released the cuffs that were chafing against the younger man's hands, ushering him to the door with the security outside of the interrogation room. Clint was led down a hall that seemed to go on forever, coming to a stop outside a small room with a window that showed the redhead, slumped over a table, looking pitiful.

His hand gingerly touched the window for a moment, before moving down to the handle. "Natalia."

She looked up at him, but those green eyes were full of fear as she watched him from the doorway. "Ty obeshchal mne immunitet. Ty skazal, chto oni ne prichinyat mne vreda. Ty solgal mne, pochemu?"

Dropping his hand, he opened the door and closed the distance between them. Kneeling in front of her, one hand rested against her palm, the other pressed gently to her cheek. "Они не повредят вам или ребенку. Я не позволю им. Пока в легких есть дыхание, они никогда не будут класть руку тебе или нашей семье. Но моя защита ограничена, Наталья. Мне нужно, чтобы ты мне тоже помог."

Quiet movement, subtle and soft. She reached down to reposition his hand against her stomach. "Whatever it takes."

Clint kissed her forehead quickly in a sign of respect before standing to his feet and turning to the door. "She'll pledge her allegiance to the States. But I want you to know, on the record, and in front of all of SHIELD...if anyone attempts to lay a hand on her or my children, it will be the last time you draw a breath. You won't see me coming."

Silence, long and drawn out, before Coulson opened the door and looked to Natasha. "Welcome to the team, Natasha Romanoff. I expect you'll be in good hands with Agent Barton. Try not to ruin it this time, would you?"


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm out of touch, I'm out of love. I'll pick you up when you get down. And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now._

She was only twenty one. She was not only twenty one, but she was alone in New York while he was off in Germany somewhere fighting a force that he wasn't entirely sure existed. Nine hours, fifteen minutes, redeye from Frankfurt to New York. He'd done the math over and over in his head, knowing damn well that he wasn't going to be his father's son.

As soon as Coulson hailed him on his radio, he knew something had happened. _She's in labor, I figured I'd update you since you asked to be informed. She said to have you get your intel and leave as soon as you can._

Clint knew. His heart raced. They'd already found complications in his daughter's DNA, it could lead to further complication with the delivery. He didn't want Natasha to be alone. He was thankful Coulson was there, but he wanted it to be him, not some man who watched her. From then on, his shots were a bit more rusty; they hit the target, but not as well as he had hoped. His focus was broken, his mind elsewhere. What if she died? What if she died and he wasn't there? Could he live with himself knowing he'd ruined her life like that?

Before entering the next building, he tapped on his earpiece, hoping for a response from Fury, but it was Coulson who came back. "Barton."

There was a soft tremble in his voice, he wanted answers; he wanted them now. "When?"

"Her water broke around four hours ago. She's been in slow labor since. Handling it like a champ, I must say. I don't think I've seen her so calm since she arrived here. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's waiting for you." Coulson replied.

Clint looked down to his bow. "I'm coming home. Forget the intel, we've got other spies who can get it. There's two others here working on the same mission, they don't need backup support. If I leave now, I'll get there in ten hours. Tell Fury that I'm coming back to the nest. Tell him that if he has to fire me, he can. I'm not negotiating this."

"Is this really worth your job?" Coulson replied casually.

The man sheathed his arrow and put his bow over his shoulder, not even waiting for an answer. "Yes. At least if I lose my job, I'll have my family to return to. Keep me posted on any changes."

"Will do. You get your ass to the Quinjet, we'll worry about the rest later. Fury will have to handle you on his own terms; I doubt he'll fire you. This kind of takes precedence. Coulson out."

As the earpiece clicked to silence, Clint studied his watch. 2 pm back home...he could do this. He had to do this. Nine hour trip, that wasn't too God awful... It was just thinking about what would happen from there. All the ideas that flooded his mind were crippling. He couldn't help but think of what would happen if something went wrong. Pushing it from his mind, he climbed aboard the Quinjet and set the coordinates.

Frankfurt to New York was a trip and a half. He felt like his life was going to be so much different now, and that was putting it as a mild understatement. His bones ached, his heart wanted to be with her, but he also knew that she was tougher than anyone else he'd ever met - including his mother. Clint wasn't afraid of Natasha being able to handle this...he was afraid of him being able to be there for her.

He arrived on the roof of the hospital hours later, if his math was right, it was roughly eighteen hours all together, and that was still far too much, given the circumstances. The hospital was wary about letting him in, but Steve and Bucky were already present, a small blessing in a harrowing time. When Clint explained he was the father, and the confirmation came from the two in the front lobby, he gowned up and got on gloves to go inside the room. _Eighteen hours_. He couldn't imagine having to endure that pain for so long. He was shocked to see that she was barely conscious, fading in and out. He knew it must have been difficult. Reaching over to take her hand, he closed his eyes when she gripped him so hard, he thought it would break. "I'm here," He whispered over and over. "I'm here, Tasha."

Twenty two hours passed. There were shouts, screams, pain from both parties, curses thrown about, and then - _deafening silence_. At first, he thought he was going crazy, that was unusual in it's own merits, but silence? Weren't newborns supposed to cry? He thought at first that his hearing aids malfunctioned, until he heard the doctor speaking quickly in the background. _No_. _No, no no! _Remaining calm, he looked to Natasha, who heard the same thing. They were rushing their son to the Neonatal unit, where they could keep an eye on him...if it were possible, his heart stopped in his chest.

Not even a few seconds passed before their daughter made her grand entrance; her cries as loud as could be, her presence well known in the room. But for some reason, Clint wasn't exactly _happy_. Something had gone wrong with his son, and that was aching in his mind. While Natasha was cuddling with their daughter - affectionately named _Starling Aleksei Barton - _he was in the hallway, his hand pressed to the glass of the Neonatal care unit.

"Will he be okay?" Clint inquired with one of the doctors. He wanted to hold his son, to tell him everything would be okay, but the fact that he would have to use a special suit stopped him. Maybe positive vibes was enough to help.

The doctor nodded, looking to the man. "We were concerned about the fact that he wasn't breathing, but luckily we've got him on a ventilator. It seems to be working. In the next day or so, we'll slowly introduce him to breathing without it, see where it goes. Unfortunately, he was trapped for quite some time, and it cut off his ability to breathe, but..." The doctor frowned. "Had I noticed it sooner, he wouldn't be in this precarious situation. But he'll make it. I've met his parents."

Clint nodded and dropped his hand to his side. "May I hold him?"

"Of course." The man led him into the sterile room, where they got him into a special gown and made sure that he couldn't translate any diseases, then took the child - tubes and all - and handed him over to the father.

Clint's hand trembled while he held onto his son, his eyes closing from the burning. There were tears, he knew that much was evident; his posture was entirely different as well; guarded. "Hey buddy, can you hear me? It's daddy. I used to talk to you a lot before you got here, I'm sure you know what I sound like by now. I'm here, okay? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, no matter what. You're going to do great things, you and your sister. You're going to be amazing, just like your mother. You'll overcome this, because you're a Barton-Romanoff. You don't know how to quit." He bit his lip, looking at the tag that read _Baby A_. Taking a pen, he scribbled out the word _Baby A _and replaced it with _Francis Grant_, like they'd agreed months ago. "You're going to do great things, I already know it, Francis."

_I'm gonna pick up the pieces and build a lego house. If things go wrong, we can knock it down._


End file.
